


we're nothing less than a work in progress

by kianne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x19 coda, Baby Jack Kline, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Dean Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, The finale didn't happen, kid!jack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:28:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28967592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kianne/pseuds/kianne
Summary: "He didn’t want to become like Chuck. He didn’t think there was any way to hold that kind of power and not become corrupt, so he gave it up.”“So what, he’s a kid now?”“He always was, really,” Cas said, his hand rubbing small circles into Jack’s back. Jack snuggled further into Dean’s neck sleepily and Dean felt the ice in his heart crack as it melted away.The first true act of free will was an angel falling from grace to live a human life with his son.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester
Comments: 55
Kudos: 207





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> pretty heavy start but I promise it gets lighter pretty quickly! 
> 
> I normally don't care much for parenting fics but this one simply would not leave me alone so here it is i guess. posting this today bc its deans birthday and this is the ending he deserved!! 
> 
> set immediately post 15x19

The gaping hollowness in Dean’s chest threatened to swallow him whole as they drove back to Kansas. He tried not to show it, caught Sam’s eyes and smiled at the relief in his expression when Eileen answered her phone on the first try. It was like someone poked a hole in Sam and he deflated back into his seat, tension draining out of him as he laughed a little deliriously at the little picture of Eileen on his screen. Dean turned his eyes back to the road with stiff shoulders and tried to ignore the howling blackness in his chest. 

The longer they drove, the more his thoughts rotted in his skull. Every single person they drove past they’d saved, and what had he got out of the mix? Jack had up and left like he wasn’t the closest thing to a kid Dean would ever have, and Cas was still— 

Dean could tell Sam felt guilty being happy beside him while he practically oozed the grief he’d been able to suppress while they’d hunted god down, but Dean waved him off, gesturing him to keep talking to Eileen. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand the silent tension if he hung up. Sam had never been good at letting Dean wallow in his self pity in silence. You’d have thought the kid had studied psychology, not law, the way he constantly wanted to get into Dean’s head. If Dean cracked now he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to dam the barrage of shit that would follow, so he kept a tight lid on it all. Walls reinforced with steel just to hold him together. 

Eventually when he couldn’t take sitting next to Sam any longer he pulled sharply into a truck stop, parking as far away from the convenience store as he could so he had further to walk. Sam flashed him a questioning look, the ‘ _are you okay?_ ’ practically on the tip of his tongue, and Dean barely threw him a fake smile and a nod before stomping away from the car, hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, the air in his lungs turning to lead. 

He walked straight past the store, and for a minute he thought he might just keep going. Keep walking and not look back until his legs gave out. But then he rounded the back of the store and with the physical boundary between him and Sam, the fight drained out of him all at once. He took a jerky step to half collapse against the rough wall, dragging in shallow breaths that couldn’t possibly be giving him enough oxygen. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, leant against the grubby wall with his eyes shut and face tilted towards a sun that had no right shining on him as warmly as it was. Still not warmly enough to thaw the rough, icy spikes in his chest. Before too long he grew conscious of Sam waiting for him back at the car. If he hid out here much longer he’d come looking, and he’d have that stupid puppy dog ‘ _I’m so sorry, Dean_ ’ look on his face and Dean could _not_ deal with that right now. So he wiped the wetness from his cheeks with rough hands, squared his shoulders, and pushed off the wall. When he returned to the car with pork rinds and two shitty, weak coffees, Sam treated him to the look anyway, but Dean ignored him and slammed the door shut, revving baby and pulling away almost before Sam had shut his door. 

Sam didn’t call Eileen back, but he remained glued to his phone, pinging texts back and forth, dopey smile near glued to his face. Dean couldn’t decide if he was happy for the quiet, or annoyed by the stifling, obnoxious happiness chafing against Dean’s black mood. He turned the music up. 

Dread wasn’t an emotion Dean associated with the bunker, but for the first time it was the one that rushed over him when they finally pulled up. He sat, engine idling for a second, considering kicking Sam out and just keeping driving, until Sam looked over at him expectantly. Dean avoided his gaze, just yanked the keys out the ignition and grabbed his duffle from the back seat before following after him. 

He paused before the threshold, tilting his head back to the vast expanse of the sky, clear enough to see the stars past the icy puffs of his breath. The stars always made him think of Cas, even though he knew that’s not where heaven was. Even if it was, Cas wouldn’t be looking down at him. That’s not how heaven worked, and not where Cas was. The empty aching in his chest grew a little colder. He pushed in through the bunker door. 

Sam was frozen at the top of the stairs, and jumped a little when Dean appeared. 

“Actually, I think I’m gonna go straight to Eileen’s,” He said, his voice hushed and hurried. 

“What? Thought she was gonna come here in-“

“No I’m gonna go,” Sam said firmly, and there was something in his eyes that made Dean’s heart drop even as Sam clapped his shoulder and sidestepped past him. Dean barely heard the bunker door slam shut behind him, because now Sam wasn’t blocking his view anymore he could see what had shaken him so much. 

There, stood at the other end of the map table, eyes wide and mouth gaping open slightly— was Cas. 

Dean’s knees almost gave out. “Cas?” He whispered, and the quiet sound echoed through the cavernous room. In Cas’ arms was a small child, hugged close to Cas’ neck. Dean’s footsteps thundered as he clattered down the stairs, duffle bag dropped from his numb hands as he hit the floor. 

“Hello Dean,” Cas said, and at the sound of his voice the gaping void in Dean’s chest _sang_. 

“Cas, you’re really-“ He broke off, six feet still between them that he couldn’t quite cross over. He should do the usual tests he knew, but it was _Cas_ , and they just destroyed God, for gods sake, it’s not like a shifter was going to break into the bunker now. 

“It’s me,” Cas said, familiar blue eyes locked on Dean’s, and the dam in his chest broke. He couldn’t pull him in for a full body hug because of the child still in his arms, so he settled for stepping closer and clapping a hand to the back of his neck, thumb rubbing at his hairline, as he studied every inch of Castiel’s face, a laugh that was half a sob tearing from his throat. It was him, every freckle, every wrinkle that shouldn’t have been able to sink into Cas’ skin had this body still been Jimmy’s. He drank the sight of him in like a drowning man. 

The child in Cas’ arms wriggled impatiently and Dean dropped his hand, taking half a step back and composing himself. “Uh, Cas, not that I’m not thrilled to see you but, uh, who’s this?”

The child was still clinging to Cas, a tuft of blonde hair visible where it was tucked firmly into Cas’ collar. Cas looked at Dean carefully, as if warning him to brace himself, and before Dean had time to analyse _that_ , Cas was shifting the child on his hip slightly, leaning down to murmur gently in his ear. 

“Hey Jack, are you gonna come out and say hello to Dean?”

Dean’s entire being screeched to a halt. His mouth gaped open as his gaze flicked back and forth between Cas and the kid in his arms. The kid grumbled sleepily into Cas’ neck before extricating himself and twisting in his arms to blink owlishly at Dean. It was unmistakably Jack, just…miniaturised. His whole face broke out in a grin as he recognised Dean and he stretched out his little hands to him, twisting his body towards him so Dean had to catch him before he wriggled out of Cas’ arms. He immediately buried his face in Dean’s throat now, little arms wrapping around his neck. 

“Jack?” Dean said, and it came out as a whisper. His heart thundered in his chest, the echoing emptiness suddenly so full it felt like he could burst. He flicked his gaze up to Cas, and saw his eyes were shining as he watched the pair of them. 

“Cas, what’s…” He broke off, unable to find the words with Jack’s hot little breaths puffing against his collar. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and shifted the boy in his arms slightly, hugging him closer and turning to bury his nose into his hair briefly. 

“He gave up his powers,” Cas said, his voice thick but spilling with pride. “He undid everything Chuck had done, he fixed heaven. He-“

“He brought you back,” Dean finished for him, eyes locking with Cas’ again. 

“He did.” Cas brought a hand up to rest against Jack’s back like a proud father. “But he didn’t want to become like Chuck. He didn’t think there was any way to hold that kind of power and not become corrupt, so he gave it up.”

“So what, he’s a kid now?”

“He always was, really,” Cas said, his hand rubbing small circles into Jack’s back. Jack snuggled further into Dean’s neck sleepily and Dean felt the ice in his heart crack as it melted away. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath against the tears threatening to spill over. When he opened them again Cas was looking at him intently. 

“We put him through too much,” Dean said thickly. Cas didn’t reply, so Dean continued, forcing his voice to be more casual; “So we’re on our own now?”

“I believe Jack thought it was the only way it would be fair. Free will; properly this time.” 

Dean could only nod, not trusting himself to speak. He turned his head again, this time to plant a soft kiss into Jack’s fluffy hair. 

“He’s tired,” He said at last. Cas smiled. 

“He’s had a rather long day.”

“He did just defeat God,” Dean agreed, feeling somewhat delirious. “And you?” He said, sobering suddenly. “Are you-“

“Human,” Cas said matter of factly. 

“Cas-“

“It’s what Jack wanted. A normal life.” 

“But did _you_ -“ 

“Yes.” 

Dean wanted to protest, but the look in Cas’ eyes made the words die in Dean’s throat. And he realised this was it; the first true act of free will was an angel falling from grace to live a human life with his son. He chose this. Cas looked- he looked happy. At peace. 

Panic swelled in Dean’s throat suddenly, and his eyes flicked over Cas’ shoulder, half expecting black goo to spawn from the floor and drag Cas away from him once more, but Cas moved his hand from Jack’s back to Dean’s shoulder. 

“The deal with the Empty is over, Dean,” He said, sensing Dean’s distress. “I’m human now; it can’t take me.” Dean clenched his jaw and nodded, praying he was right. 

“We should get this one to bed then, I guess,” Dean said, nodding down at Jack, who was already nodding off Dean’s shoulder. “His room is still set up.”

  
Jack’s room had always been a bizarre blend of childhood and adulthood. There was an empty beer bottle in the waste paper basket, a shotgun and its cleaning tools strewn across his desk. A teddy bear with a voice box in its paw was tucked into his bed, a projector that shone stars on the ceiling was nestled on the bed side table next to a copy of The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe, and a thick volume on hunting wendigos from the Men of Letters’ library. They’d have to redecorate, Dean thought. 

The kid wasn’t heavy, but Dean’s knee creaked uncomfortably when he lowered Jack carefully into his bed, trying not to wake him. Despite his care, Jack still roused, sighing and reaching out a delicate little hand to grab Dean’s collar. 

“Hey now, let go, you need to go to sleep,” Dean murmured, gently prying his collar free. 

“Da-“ Jack sighed sleepily. 

“It’s Dean,” Dean said softly. Jack’s eyes fluttered open, fixing on Dean. His mouth tugged in a crooked, sleepy smile. 

“G’night, dad,” He whispered, before his eyes slid shut and his breathing levelled back out, completely oblivious to the way Dean’s hands were suddenly shaking, his eyes burning. He swallowed thickly and stroked a gentle hand through Jack’s hair before pulling away from the bed. 

“Night kid.” 

Cas was watching from the door when Dean turned to leave, light from the hallway spilling in around him like a halo. _Angels are watching over you, Jack_. Mary’s loss weighed heavily on Dean’s shoulders as he stepped out the bedroom and pulled the door closed quietly behind him. 

“Did you hear what he said?” He asked, blowing out a shaky breath and leaning against the cool wall. Cas’ eyes were warm in the way they only ever got when he was thinkin about Jack as he regarded Dean with far more composure than Dean was currently capable of showing. Fatherhood had suited Cas from the moment he’d met Jack, Dean realised, and he realised with a pang in his stomach that he wanted that too. 

“You’ve always been his father, Dean,” Cas said. 

“Not always. Definitely not at first. Some of the things I said to him, Cas- how can I ever forgive myself for the ways I treated him? Does he even remember?”

“He forgave you,” Cas said simply, “and he’s given you another chance. As for what he remembers; he remembers loving you, that much is clear. The rest may come back to him, though probably not clearly. More like dreams, an awareness of what happened if not crystal clear memories.” Dean could only nod and scrub a shaky hand down his face, trying to compose himself. 

  
When Dean finally retreated to the quietness of his room, the weight of the day hit him like a tidal wave. He breathed shakily, his limbs suddenly so heavy he could barely bring himself to peel off his clothes (still dusty from his fist fight with God. You know, thee biblical God) and drag himself into his pyjamas. The second his head hit the pillow however, his eyes snapped back open. 

He’d left a damn loaded shotgun in a room with a three year old. He’d been a father to a three year old for all of an hour and he’d already left it alone with a damn _loaded shotgun_. Tiredness be damned, he was up and sprinting down the hallway before he could think twice. 

He pushed Jack’s door open quietly so as not to wake the kid. The desk came into view first and Dean’s heart plummeted when he saw it was empty. He shoved the door open the rest of the way, convinced he was going to see Jack playing with the damn thing like a toy- or worse. 

The iron fist around his chest loosened its grip when the door instead swung open to reveal Cas sprawled on the twin bed alongside the sleeping kid, wearing a faded AC/DC shirt and some pyjama pants of Dean’s he’d left in Cas’ room for him god knows when. He blinked his eyes open blearily at the light suddenly spilling in from the hallway. 

“Dean?” He asked, shifting onto his elbows. The cold iron around Dean’s chest may have vanished but something else, something warmer and softer squeezed at his heart now instead at the sight of Cas sleep rumpled next to their kid. 

“Left the shotgun,” Dean jerked his head awkwardly at the desk. 

“Oh. I moved it.”

“Why’re you sleeping in here?”

“We don’t have a baby monitor,” Cas said like that was a totally normal thing in their lives now. “I was worried about him alone in here.” 

“Oh. Right. Guess we’ll get one tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

“Goodnight Dean.”

  
Despite how bone tired Dean had been just minutes ago, now his mind was racing. He’d helped out with Lisa’s niece years ago, and raised Sammy a lifetime ago, but none of that felt like it had prepared him to be faced with an actual child - a _son_ \- to raise. They’d have to buy him food first thing tomorrow, and clothes, before they could even do _that_ they’d somehow have to get their hands on a booster seat so they could even take him to get these things. And jeez— Cas was human now too. He could borrow Dean’s stuff but he was going to need stuff of his own eventually.

The list of things to do kept growing longer and longer in Dean’s head until he pressed the heel of his hand into his eyeball, willing his brain to pipe down. He grabbed his phone from where he’d abandoned it on the nightstand. There was a text from Sam which simply read _everything alright?_ He snorted, what was he even meant to reply to that?

_Yeah think so. Safe to come home in the morning, we’re probably gonna head out shopping early though. You need anything?_

Sam’s reply with a list of groceries he needed came a few minutes later. Dean didn’t bother reading it before chucking his phone aside and planting face first into his pillow. This time he was out almost instantly, sliding into a mercifully dreamless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay listen i know their reunion was overshadowed by jack and they didn't get a hug however that was on purpose bc we're going with show typical emotional constipation for a little while, i promise they'll get their heads out of their asses soon


	2. Chapter 2

Dean’s alarm yanked him out of sleep at seven the next morning. He hit at it blindly until the annoying beeping stopped and buried back under the covers. The warmth, he decided, was far more important than making any sort of attempt to keep up with Sam’s stupid ‘healthy’ sleep schedule.

All at once the events of the previous day dawned on him, and his eyes snapped open. Had that all been a vivid hallucination? Some sort of twisted dreamscape? It wouldn’t be the first time. He was out of bed and half way down the corridor before he’d even finished pulling his robe on.

He pushed Jack’s door open with bated breath, half convinced he was going to find the room empty, another one of Chuck’s sick twisted tricks. Instead he was greeted by the tiny form of Jack, sat bolt upright in bed and blinking owlishly at up him, caught in the act of exploring Cas’ face with his little hands. Cas was still conked out on the bed next to him, apparently unaware of Jack’s prodding fingers. Upon recognising Dean, Jack’s face broke out into a smile so big it was infectious.

“Daddy!” He squealed, and Dean shushed him even as his heart swelled so large in his chest it threatened to choke him.

“Shh, don’t wake your dad,” He said, forcing the words out past the lump in his throat. Jack sobered immediately, nodding and placing his finger on his lips to show that he understood. “C’mere,” Dean said, nodding his head to gesture for Jack to follow him. Jack wriggled his way out of the bed and toddled up to Dean, but instead of following through into the hallway he stopped by his feet and raised his arms, demanding to be picked up. With one more glance to Cas’ sleeping form, Dean bent down and scooped Jack up, his knees clicking as he did so. Jack wriggled into a more comfortable position, little hands fisting in Dean’s sleep shirt.

Dean scooted him over to hold him with one arm and pressed his face close for a second, before closing the door quietly behind him to let Cas get some more sleep. He had no idea how much of a toll being dragged back from the empty and turned human might have had on the angel, but whenever he’d he’d never been much of a morning person previously.

The corridors of the bunker seemed less cold with Jack pressed firmly to Dean’s side, clinging to him comfortably as he twisted round in his arms to take in every angle of the place. Dean wasn’t sure if the kid recognised it or not; if he didn’t then he wouldn’t know his way round. A three year old on the loose through the endless corridors and rooms of the Men of Letters bunker sounded like a particular branch of hell Dean would rather _not_ visit, thank you very much. The logistics of trying to raise Jack here were far too much to be thinking about before he’d had his morning coffee, he decided.

Dean wasn’t sure what time Sam would be back, but he’d probably have breakfast at Eileen’s anyway so he didn’t need to worry about feeding him. He turned on the coffee pot one handed, but quickly realised making breakfast like that was going to be more of a challenge. He then realised he didn’t even know what three year olds were supposed to eat for breakfast. Do they still need formula? Baby food?? Oh, he is so not cut out for this.

“Do you eat pancakes?” He asked the kid in his arms.

“I like pancakes!”

“Yeah, that’s good enough.”

And that’s how Cas found them half an hour later, both covered head to toe in flour, Jack seated on the counter stirring a bowl of pancake mix that clearly didn’t need any more stirring, and half a stack of pancakes already to the side of the stove.

“Good morning, Dean, Jack,” Cas said, making a beeline for the coffeepot.

“Mornin’ sunshine, pancakes?” Dean asked, jabbing his spatula at the small stack.

“Thank you,” Cas said, grabbing them and some plates to set up the table.

“Take this one, will you? He’s been very helpful but I think it might be quicker if I work alone.”

Cas scooped Jack up, getting flour all over Dean’s borrowed AC/DC shirt in the process, and perched him on one of the stools. It was too low down and far away from the table for Jack, and he had to pull himself forwards with his arms on the table to even see his plate.

“I’m not certain children of this age are supposed to consume such sugary meals for breakfast, Dean.”

“Sure they are. Slice up some banana for his and you’ve got in one of his five a day already,” Dean said, tossing the fruit to Cas. Cas cut it up carefully onto Jack’s pancakes while Dean plated up his own food and joined them. He watched as Jack struggled to reach his food so badly it looked like he was going to fall right out of his seat for a minute before taking pity on him.

“Alright, come here, short stack,” He said, pulling Jack onto his lap so he could reach the table. He cut the pancakes into tiny bitesized pieces and handed the fork back to Jack. It looked comically large in his tiny hands. “There y’are. Dig in.”

When he looked back up, Cas wasn’t eating his own food, but instead watching Dean with such a soft look in his eyes it made him squirm inside. He looked down at his own plate to avoid his gaze and manoeuvred awkwardly around Jack to cut his own food one handed.

“You too, Cas,” He said, nodding at Cas’ plate, “stuff to do today.”

“You’re very good with children. I had no idea,” Cas said softly, which threw Dean even harder. He’d only had one cup of coffee he was _not_ ready to deal Cas being all mushy.

“Yeah, well,” Dean said, not meeting his eyes, cheeks flushing pink, “I raised Sammy, so, y’know. And I’ve always liked kids.”

“Well, I hope I can live up to your standards,” Cas said seriously, and that made Dean look up.

“Hey, no. Neither of us have a freaking clue what we’re doing, you’re not living up to anything. You’re a great father, so can it.” He said, punctuating his sentence by shovelling a giant forkful of pancake into his mouth so he had an excuse to stop talking. Cas still had the unbearably soft expression on his face, but nodded and finally tucked into his own food.

They both agreed that the first thing they needed to do was to go shopping for the essentials. Pancakes for breakfast was fine, but Dean was pretty sure the burgers he had planned for lunch would be a bit too much for the little squirt, and they didn’t have any juice or snacks to speak of.

The car, however, posed another issue.

“He’s just gonna have to sit on your lap, Cas,” Dean said as Cas eyed the impala warily.

“That really doesn’t seem safe. I still think we should take my truck.”

“No. No way. That thing’s no safer, it’s basically a death trap as it is, and it’s only got two seats. We’ll buy the kid a booster seat while we’re out and he can ride back in that. Can’t do that if there’s only two seats.” Cas still looked wary but Dean rolled his eyes. “I’ll drive slow,” He promised, “and we literally have no other choice. Unless I leave you here with him and try to figure this all out on my own, which I am _not_ doing,” he raised his hand to stop Cas before he could make the argument to stay behind.

“Fine,” He grumbled instead, climbing into the car. Dean picked Jack up and deposited him on his lap.

Jack was thrilled by this arrangement. He kept trying to stand up in Cas’ lap to look over the dashboard or crawl around the car while Cas wrestled to keep the squirming boy still. Dean laughed at it at first, but swiftly lost all sense of humour as soon as they hit the main road and he was faced with other cars speeding past them.

“Jack, sit your ass back down,” He said, tone stern, his knuckles white where he gripped the steering wheel like he was expecting to crash any second, despite driving a solid ten miles an hour below the speed limit.

“Jack if you sit still like a good boy I’ll buy you sweeties,” Cas said. Dean rolled his eyes.

After the longest twenty minute drive of Dean’s entire life, they finally pulled up outside the Walmart and Dean felt his ass unclench.

“Right, this shouldn’t take too long,” Dean said, with all the confidence of a person who had no idea of how much _stuff_ kids need.

It turns out, kids need a lot of stuff. Thankfully, Jack appeared to have grown out of diapers immediately, but he was still wearing the same clothes he had appeared in yesterday - which now Dean looked properly, were miniature version of the outfit he’d been wearing when he’d taken on God earlier that day. (Dean was getting a headache). Now they needed to get him an entire new, tiny wardrobe.

“Age three to four, right? Can’t be that hard,” Dean had said. They’d proceeded to dump almost the entire stock of age three to four into their cart. Somewhere along the lines Dean had spotted the adorably tiny plaid shirts, and Jack had perked up, so he’d grabbed enough of those to put him in a new colour every day of the week. Then they realised he’d need pyjamas, underwear and socks, and shoes, and a coat, and gloves and a hat. Dean hadn’t been particularly excited by the prospect of a trip to buy Jack the essentials, but any ounce of enthusiasm he may have felt drained away as he considered the isles and isles they still had left to go through.

The adult clothes section was right next to the children’s, so they dragged the cart there next. Guessing Cas’ sizing was a little more difficult than Jack’s and they had to send Cas off to try on different pairs of jeans to find a few pairs that actually fitted. Then Dean had taken to rifling through the lousy shirts the store had on offer.

“I hate this. Can’t I just wear your shirts? You have plenty,” Cas whined.

“No, Cas. You need your own clothes,” Dean said, willing his cheeks to stop heating up at the thought of Cas wearing his clothes day in day out. Cas sighed theatrically and grabbed the closest shirt to him and threw it on top of their ever growing pile.

“There. Are we done?”

Dean grimaced and grabbed the shirt back out of the cart. “You are absolutely not wearing an Incredible Hulk t-shirt,” He said, stuffing it back on the rail with a grimace.

Eventually Dean was happy that Cas had enough clothes in the cart for the time being, even if it meant donating a few flannels to the cause because none of the ones Walmart supplied where up to Cas’ standards. He’d need a jacket or two too, but he had picked out a couple of hoodies and the weather was nice enough at the moment that he shouldn’t freeze to death before they could dedicate a little more time to fleshing out his wardrobe. Finishing that section of shopping felt like a monumental achievement, and Dean was ready to leave this goddamn shop for good, before he glanced at the list he’d made hastily on his phone that morning and realised they’d barely even scratched the surface.

“Sam, can you do a food run on your way back?” Dean said into the phone, trying not to sound too desperate.

“I thought you were going shopping?”

“We did, but we’ve been here like three hours and if we’re much longer I think the kid’s gonna have a meltdown.”

“Cas or Jack?”

“Honestly bets are off,” Dean said, glancing over to where Cas was glaring accusingly the brand new booster seat they’d acquired, trying to work out how in the hell it was supposed to buckle into the car. Sam snorted down the phone.

“Alright. You need anything in particular?”

“I don’t know, Sam. What do three year olds eat?”

“Dude, I have no idea.”

“Yeah well me either. I grabbed enough stuff to make some sandwiches for lunch and that was about all I could handle. Just- google it or something, I don’t know!”

“Alright, chill out, man. I’m on it. I’ll be back at the bunker in a couple of hours, try not to burn it down.”

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean sighed and hung up. He pushed off the back of the impala to help Cas, who was struggling with the booster far more than could possibly be called for.

“I think it’s broken,” Cas said when he approached.

“It’s not broken,” Dean said exasperatedly, nudging Cas aside to have a look for himself.

Several minutes of his own wrestling with the seat, followed by several more spent googling, he sat back on his heels.

“Ah shit,” He announced.

“What?” Cas asked, pinching the bridge of his nose and bouncing a grumbling Jack in his arms.

“This needs a proper seat belt, the impala only has lap belts. It’s not gonna work.”

“Your father had this car throughout your and your brother’s childhoods, what did he do?”

“Proper baby car seats can strap in with a lap belt, other ’n that he just slung us in the back.”

“I am not ‘ _slinging Jack in the back_ ’,” Cas glowered, and Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever met anybody who managed to make air quotations look quite as accusatory as Cas did, even with an armful of toddler.

“I’m not suggesting we do that,” He raised a placating hand between them, wiping his forehead with the other. “But he’s too big for a baby seat, and a booster ain’t gonna work.”

“My truck-“

“Two seater, Cas,” Dean glared.

“Well what about any of the other cars in the Men of Letters garage?” Cas snapped.

“They’re all from the fifties, they weren’t big on health and safety back then.”

“Then what-“

“Jesus, I don’t know, Cas! Can we just— if we strap him into the back for now and you can sit back there next to him and make sure he’s safe. We’ll work out plans for the future when we’re home, but for now, kid’s getting grouchy, as am I. It’s lunch time and then nap time all round.” He said, eyes imploring. Cas glowered some more, clearly still displeased by the safety aspect, but assented and buckled Jack into the back seat. He and Dean loaded the frankly ridiculous number of bags into the trunk, then Cas climbed into the back after Jack, wrapping his arm around his shoulders to hold him securely in place. Jack flopped into his side and sighed dramatically.

“I’m hungry,” He whined.

“I know, kid. We’re heading back to the bunker and I’ll make you some lunch, alright? Think you can hang on that long without fading away?” Dean said over his shoulder, keying the ignition. Jack giggled at the exaggeration, and Dean knew even without glancing in the rearview mirror Cas would be tilting his head and squinting at the idiom. He grinned as he pulled out of the parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is. literally 2.5k words of Some Guys making breakfast then going to walmart. i have no excuse for this actually sorry lol, i cant decide if i hate it or if it's just the right side of domestic fluff???
> 
> i was going to write more but a I'm working out How Toddlers Work at the same time dean is which is surprisingly a Lot, more plot heavy and emotions heavy stuff comes in next chapter when im gonna force these two to start using their goddamn words 
> 
> its my birthday so uh,, nice comments would be a v nice birthday present ily all


	3. Chapter 3

Cas had always known Dean was far softer at heart than he let anyone onto. He’d been yearning to get out of the hunter life almost as long as he’d been in it. But watching the way he interacted with Jack made something in his chest ache, at the same time as it soothed him right down to his core like a balm. It was like watching the last puzzle piece of who Dean Winchester was slot into place, and he glowed with it.

He had a way with Jack that had completely blindsided Cas. It was so at odds with his hard exterior that a person who knew him less well would balk. Cas didn’t bother to hide his grin as he watched Dean dump most of the contents of one of the shopping bags into another and present the mostly empty bag to Jack. 

“Think you can give me a hand getting the shopping in, buddy?” He asked. Jack nodded gleefully and accepted the bag like it was something important, before toddling off towards the garage door with it held high above his head so it wouldn’t drag along the floor. Dean laughed softly to himself as he scooped the rest of the bags out of the trunk.

“Let me,” Cas said, stepping forward to take half.

“I got it,” Dean said, attempting to loop the handles all the way up his wrists to take them all in one go. Cas fixed him with a glare and Dean rolled his eyes, dropping barely a handful’s worth back into the trunk for Cas to take, then following after Jack. 

  
Dean deposited the shopping on the kitchen table and started rummaging through them to locate the sandwich supplies he’d run off to grab in a desperate bid to get out of the supermarket as fast as possible. 

“Cas you want a PB&J?”

“Yes please.”

“Jack, PB&J do you?”

“Yeah!”

“Alright, two PB&J’s coming right up,” He said. Cas pulled Jack onto his knee so he could reach the table while they waited, and a minute later Dean deposited two plates of sandwiches in front of them, both cut into little triangles with the crusts off. He shoved some bags out of the way so he could sit down and join them, and ate his own sandwich whole, not even bothering with a plate and dropping crumbs everywhere. 

By the time he was finished eating, Jack was practically nodding off into his plate so Cas declared it nap time. Dean fished the new baby monitor out of the bag and passed it to Cas as he manoeuvred a sleepy Jack into his arms to carry him back to his room, his head heavy against Cas' shoulder. 

Jack looked tiny in the big bed, and Cas tried not to think about the time he'd spent at this bedside while Jack had been dying. How small and vulnerable he'd looked then while his life force was seeping out of him and there was nothing Cas could do to help. He looked so happy and healthy now, curled into the pillow and his thumb in his mouth. Cas thought childhood suited Jack far better than adulthood ever had. Like he’d never quite known what to do with a body that was too big for him, never had the chance to work out the world on his own terms. 

This wasn’t Jack’s second chance, it wasn’t Dean or Cas’ either, far from it. If you added it all up it was probably their twentieth chance at life at least, but it was their first _real_ one. The first chance at a normal and happy life. The first one with free will. Cas didn’t think he would ever stop being grateful for that. 

  
Dean was unpacking the shopping bags on the kitchen table when Cas returned. Stacking clothes into neat piles for Jack and Cas. There was a pile of toiletries next to Cas’ stack, and a growing pile of miscellaneous ‘Jack items’ at the end of the table. 

“Do kids really need this many toys?” Dean asked, tossing a plastic toy doctors set complete with mini stethoscope into the Jack pile.

“Jack certainly seemed to think so,” Cas said, and caught a bottle of baby shampoo as it rolled towards the edge of the table. Dean snorted and folded up the now empty carrier bag. Cas took in the stiffness of his shoulders, the way the smile slipped off Dean’s face as quickly as it had come, leaving lines of tension by his mouth and eyebrows. 

“Are you okay, Dean?” Cas asked gently. Dean looked up with practiced cheer. 

“I’m great,” He said brightly, then gentler; “Jack’s okay. You’re— you’re back.” He looked back down, smoothing the creases into the folded bag a little tighter. 

“Dean—“ Cas said, taking an aborted step closer, unsure what Dean needed. Dean took a deep breath, and Cas could tell his next words took effort. 

“It’s just- it’s a big change, and it’s all happened so quickly. We fought Chuck _yesterday_ , you were—“ his voice wobbled and he swallowed. “I didn’t think you were coming back this time.” He took a shuddering breath, then continued, his voice carefully light. “It’s just a lot to take in.” He looked up at Cas finally with a small smile. 

“I am sorry my actions caused you pain,” Cas said, his voice small. 

“You’re here now. Doesn’t matter,” Dean said firmly, shaking his head like if he meant it enough it would erase all the hurt. Dean hesitated a moment, then grabbed Cas by the shoulder, pulling him in roughly for a hug, holding him so tightly Cas could feel the slight tremble in his chest as he tried to keep his breathing even. Cas held him back, eyes squeezed shut and face buried in his neck. He thought he might finally feel home, here in Dean's arms, even if it was only ever temporary. 

“I missed you so much,” Dean whispered, so low Cas wasn’t sure he was meant to hear it. 

The sound of the bunker door opening echoed through the hallways and Dean pulled away jerkily, ducking his head so Cas couldn’t see his face, and headed out of the kitchen calling to his brother. 

“Sammy?” 

“Hey,” Sam called back, dumping his shopping bags full of the necessities they’d missed on the war table. “Cas!” He said, his face lighting up as he caught sight of him. 

“Hello, Sam,” Cas said with an easy smile, and allowed himself to be pulled in for a bear hug. It was warm and safe and familial but so unlike the hug he had just shared with Dean. 

“Right so is anyone going to tell me what’s going on or do I have to keep guessing?” Sam said with a grin as he pulled away. 

“Jack’s a kid,” Dean said bluntly, and Sam shot him a bitch face.

“Yeah, I’d gotten that far on my own, thanks.” 

Cas grabbed the bags of groceries and took them to the kitchen to unpack while Dean filled Sam in. Eventually as Cas was putting the last few bits awaythey trailed in after him, and Sam snorted incredulously at the pile of clothes and baby toys still littering the table as he took a seat. 

“You guys are really serious about this, huh? No trying to turn him back.”

“It was his choice,” Cas said, a little defensively and Sam held up his hands. 

“I think it’s great,” He said warmly, a genuine grin stretching across his face, Cas returned the smile, feeling a little more at ease. "So is he like an actual three year old or does he still have some powers and remember stuff or-" he launched in with his usual enthusiasm. 

  
They moved to the library eventually, and an hour or so later the baby monitor crackled to life, Jack making little burbling noises that meant he had probably woken up from his nap. 

“I’ll get him,” Cas said, moving to stand. 

“Nah, I’ll go,” Dean said, patting Cas’ shoulder as he passed, leaving him alone with Sam. 

Cas shifted slightly in his seat, suddenly tense. He had no idea what Dean had told Sam about his last moments before the empty took him, and felt suddenly unprepared for a conversation about it. But Sam didn’t seem to sense his awkwardness, which Cas hoped meant he didn't know. 

“So you’re human again, huh?” He said, grabbing a beer from the sixpack. He gestured one to Cas in offering but Cas shook his head. 

“Yes. Jack gave me the choice to stay an angel, but since he’s fully human now I decided I would rather live a normal life with him.” 

Sam cracked his beer and dropped another at Dean's seat before taking his place again, smile still on his face. 

“Well I’m glad. If anyone deserves a normal life by now it’s you and Dean.” He said. Cas’ heart faltered for just a second at the implication that Sam thought Dean would be spending his life with Cas. He couldn’t have meant it that way though, just that he and Dean had both suffered at the hands of Chuck. 

“What about you?” Cas asked, changing the topic quickly. “You seem… lighter.”

Sam laughed, and for once there was no bitterness behind it, no lingering sadness. “Yeah man, we defeated Chuck. For once it feels like we may have actually won, no strings attached. None of us are dead or in hell and it doesn’t seem like the apocalypse is about to start up again any time soon. And… I’ve got Eileen back,” He said the last part into his beer, grin tugging at his lips as he took a swig. 

“You love her,” Cas said, perhaps a little too bluntly because Sam squirmed in his seat. 

“We’ve got a good thing,” He said, ducking his head again. 

“Here he is,” Dean announced, appearing with a very sleep ruffled Jack. His hair was sticking up at odd angles and he was still sucking his thumb, his forehead pressed securely under Dean’s chin as he surveyed the room with wary eyes. 

“Jack, say hi to Sam,” Dean said, and Jack hummed his disagreement, burrowing further into his neck. “He’s tired, give him a minute.” 

“Hi, Jack,” Sam said, shifting in his seat awkwardly, clearly not quite sure what tone to use with the child that had been an adult less than a day ago.

After a few minutes of coaxing and a snack later, Sam found himself with a lap full of Jack, who was intent on twirling his fingers into his hair, something Sam accepted with a grimace given that Jack was holding a slice of apple in his other, sticky hand. 

“Aw, he likes you,” Dean said, barely containing a laugh at the pained look of forced happiness on his brother’s face. 

“Mhmm, yep. Maybe he can go back to dad to finish his snack,” Sam said, passing Jack stiffly back to Cas. “I gotta say, it feels weird not to be hitting the books right now. I mean, I know it was his choice, but we’ve never had a change this big before that’s not felt malicious in some way.”

“Yeah. For once we just get something good,” Dean said, reaching a hand out to rub a knuckle against Jack’s shoulder. His beer sat untouched forgotten on the table in front of him, Cas realised. 

“Yeah,” Sam smiled. “And it’s not like this situation has ever come up before. Let me just check my book on a nephilim becoming god and then giving up his powers to be a baby instead.” 

Dean snorted. “I think we’re going to need to hit actual parenting books instead.”

Sam just laughed, his gaze flicking between Dean and Cas with an expression Cas wasn’t quite sure how to interpret. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cas is interesting bc he's a very unreliable narrator and the next chapter is gonna explore that a bit more bc he really doesnt think he gets to have good things and we gotta set the record straight on that
> 
> leave a comment if u like!!


	4. Chapter 4

“What do you guys say to a movie night?” Dean asked, scooping Cas’ finished plate up and stacking it on top of his to take back to the kitchen. 

“I think I’m gonna turn in, actually,” Sam said, raising from the table.

“Tell Eileen I said hi,” Dean said, throwing him a knowing grin. 

“Shut up,” Sam shot over his shoulder as he ducked out of the library.

“What about you, Cas? Movie night? I’m thinking Indiana Jones. _Temple of Doom_. It’s important we start the kid’s education early.”

“A movie night sounds nice,” Cas said. He should’ve known Dean would consider pop culture an important part of Jack’s upbringing. He’d been attempting to slowly ‘teach’ Cas since purgatory. Though Cas wasn’t sure Jack was yet at the developmental stage that would allow him to process such a movie, much less understand the cultural significance of it. “It’s been a while since we’ve done one.” 

“Yeah, well. End of the world tends to eat into your recreational time a bit.”

They took their plates back to the kitchen and Dean set about making popcorn while Cas washed up. “Your dad always manages to burn this” Dean stage whispered to Jack, and Cas flicked soapy water at him, mostly to see his smile. Dean held Jack up on his hip and pointed to which buttons for him to press, telling him “good job,” and setting Jack back on the floor when the device lit up and the plate started rotating. 

Jack watched the bag spin with wide eyes and jumped when the first piece popped. Dean laughed and left him watching the expanding bag as he snatched up a dish towel to dry the dishes Cas was stacking on the rack. They worked quietly, shoulders brushing and occasionally glancing over at Jack to check he was still enraptured by the microwave. It was comfortable in a way life in the bunker had never quite managed to reach before. Cas felt no guilt in taking his time over a small task because he had nowhere else to be, no one would suffer for his indulgence. For once they weren’t outrunning catastrophe. The bubbles dissolved slowly in the sink around his wrists and the popcorn popped rhythmically to his left, accompanied by Jack’s small gasps of wonderment. Dean’s warmth was steady beside him, only pulling away to stack a dry plate to the side and then returning as if magnetised. 

Eventually the moment drained away like the dirty water down the plughole, and Dean led the way out of the kitchen and towards the Dean Cave - Sam still refused to call it that - bowl of popcorn, two cokes, and a non spill training cup of juice in his hands. Cas and Jack followed behind, and Cas nearly melted when he felt Jack’s tiny hand slip into his own as they wandered down the long hallway. He gave his hand a little squeeze and Jack squeezed back, his thumb in his mouth as he dutifully followed behind Dean.

“Jesus man,” Dean said, coming to an abrupt halt in the doorway to the Dean cave. “He can’t stay here, what am I thinking.” He scrubbed his hand across his forehead like he was staving off a headache. “How’s this meant to work?” And just like that, the bubble Cas had been making himself so at home in burst around him. 

Dean darted forwards, dropping the snacks onto the coffee table and snatching up the shotgun salt rounds he’d been packing while watching Netflix, carelessly strewn amongst the other general clutter. Completely unaware that Cas’ feet were rooted to the floor, his lungs suddenly made of iron, he fished the knife he kept shoved down the side of the sofa cushion out and stowed everything onto a tall shelf out of Jack’s reach. 

Cas had been foolish to think he and Jack were invited to live here like a weak approximation of a normal family; though he had hoped it would be more than a day before Dean would realise he didn’t want them around. Dean span on the spot, surveying the room with a stressed look on his face. Cas hated being the reason for that look; after everything Dean had been through he should be at peace. Dean dropped to his knees and dragged an ancient looking dagger out from one of the recliners and that too joined the pile on the shelf. Then he scooped up a bunch of papers and books Sam had clearly been working on and packed those away neatly too.

“No,” Cas agreed, his voice creaky. “This is no place for a child.” He considered turning and leaving right then, but Dean plopped himself down onto the worn sofa, his whirlwind of movement calmed and smile already plastered back in place. He clapped his hands, holding them out for Jack, who laughed and ran forwards to scramble into his lap. 

“You gonna stand in the doorway all night?” Dean asked, confusion flickering over his face briefly as Jack settled on his thighs. “And toss me that remote, would you?” He prompted. Finally, Cas managed to unstick his feet from the floor and made his way woodenly over to the sofa, sitting a safe distance from Dean and passing him the remote stiffly. 

Cas had allowed himself to be lulled into a false sense of security, let his guard down, convinced himself he was welcome in the Winchester brothers’ home indefinitely, when he never had been before. Perhaps he’d thought Jack would have changed things; Dean had seemed happy when he’d named him his father, after all. Although thinking about it, he’d been overwhelmed more than anything. Maybe that hadn’t been joy at all, and Cas had ignorantly been reading the emotions he wished to see. Dean had only been putting up with Cas’ continued presence in his home out of a sense of obligation after Cas had burdened him with the knowledge of feelings that would never be requited. 

Having a child would never fit in with Dean’s lifestyle, and no matter how much Cas thought he deserved to retire and settle down.. Maybe Cas would never fit into Dean’s life quite right either. Cas had had the freedom to choose to be Jack’s parent, but he wouldn’t trap Dean into the same decision when he finally, _finally_ , had the free will he’d been striving for his entire life. 

Cas would find a flat to rent out not too far from the bunker. Far enough Dean wouldn’t feel obligated to see them, but close enough he would be able to if he wanted. He’d have to work out his own credit card scams until Jack was old enough to go to school and he could find a job; perhaps Sam would help him with the tech part, or at least teach him how to do it on his own. 

He barely paid attention to the movie; too busy working out the logistics of moving out. 

“You alright, Cas?” Dean asked an hour or so in. “You seem tense.” 

Jack was perched in Dean’s lap, leaning back against his chest and clutching at one of Dean’s hands in both of his, far more interested in tracing the lines in his palm than watching the movie. Dean didn’t actually seem to mind in the same way he did whenever Cas seemed disinterested through a movie he showed him. Cas’ heart ached at the sight. Jack would miss Dean when they left. He hoped Dean would visit sometimes. 

“Yes. Just tired. The transition to humanity is always… odd,” Cas said, and it wasn’t a lie. His skin felt too sensitive, his muscles too weak, and he still had trouble interpreting what his body needed beyond knowing it needed _something_ whenever he started to feel generally _bad_. The current bad feeling had nothing to do with hunger or the cold. 

Dean dropped a hand warmly on the knee, more of a comforting rub then a friendly pat, and the ache in Cas’ chest grew achingly brighter. “I can put the kid to bed if you want an early night,” He suggested. 

“No, it’s okay. I’ll stay till the end of the movie,” Cas said, selfishly wanting to spend as much time in Dean’s presence as he was able in the short time he had left here. He would miss Dean too.

“Alright,” Dean said and turned back to the screen, withdrawing his hand and giving it back to Jack to play with. Jack glanced up at Cas, and from the look in his eye Cas was almost convinced the child knew something was wrong, like he could read right into Cas’ thoughts. But then he turned back to fiddling with Dean’s calloused fingers and the moment was over. 

“Cas?” Dean’s voice called through his closed door from the hallway. 

Cas looked down at the duffel bag on his bed and considered hiding it, but decided there was no point concealing the fact he was leaving from Dean. He would find out in the morning anyway. It’s not like Cas could slip out without Dean noticing; or rather, he could, but Dean would definitely panic. Cas refused to cause Dean anymore pain if he could help it. 

“Cas? Y’in there?” Dean’s voice was right outside the door now, and Cas changed his mind; decided he wasn’t ready to have this discussion yet. Dean would ask questions about his plans he didn’t have answers for yet and it would make his leaving seem like a poorly conceived idea. Like he wanted to get away from Dean as fast as he could. Like he was an irresponsible father. But before Cas could stow the bag under the bed, the door creaked open. 

“Oh, hey. Jack’s asleep. I was just gonna ask if you wanted— are you…packing?” Dean cut himself off. Cas kept his eyes on the bag, shoulders tense. 

“Uh, yeah,” He said casually, and stuffed another flannel at the bag. It was one of Dean’s. He hoped Dean wouldn’t notice. 

“That’s mine,” Dean said lightly. “You going somewhere?” His tone was careful, calculated. 

“I’ve found a flat not too far from here,” Cas said, still not looking up, “only an hour’s drive. You’ll still be able to see Jack, if you want. But we won’t impose on you.”

“Cas- what the hell?” Dean said, and where Cas had expected to hear anger there was instead confusion, and what sounded like hurt. Cas’ gut clenched. 

“You were right, the bunker is no place to raise a child—“

“So you were just gonna up and leave without me?” Cas’ hands twisted around a shirt — another of Dean’s — nervously. 

“Dean, I won’t force you to be his father. He loves you, but he gave you free will for a reason-“

“Yeah, so this should be my choice. Or- I should at least get a say in this! You can’t just haul ass out of here- _again_ —” The anger Cas had expected was starting to rise in his voice now and Cas kept his eyes locked on the fabric between his hands. But then Dean took a deep breath before continuing, his voice carefully even. “If you want to go I won’t stop you.” He took a step towards Cas, ducking his head to try and catch his eye. 

“Cas, do you want to go or do you feel like you have to?” His voice was gentler than Cas had been prepared for. Anger he could deal with, but the softness in his voice made the craving in Cas’ chest throb. 

“You said yourself, Jack can’t stay here.” 

“Did you- did you think that was me telling you to go?” Cas looked up at him finally, eyes wide with emotion. “Cas-“ He took another step forwards, voice impossibly softer. “You’re always welcome here. And I don’t just mean as a guest who can outstay their welcome. You live here, this is your home, forever if you want it. Please don’t-“ He took a steadying breath, grounding himself. “I’m not going to stop you from leaving if that’s what you want. But I’m asking you to stay.” 

“Oh,” Cas said. “But Jack-“ 

“Jack too, dumbass. He’s my kid as well as yours, I’m not ditching out on him.” 

“But you said the bunker’s no place to raise him—” 

“Then lets get a house,” Dean said, so quickly he seemed to surprise himself. 

“Dean-“

“Let’s do it. I meant what I said - an underground bunker is no place to raise a kid. It’s not a home, not really. I mean we could try or whatever if you really wanted but,” Dean took a breath, and looked at Cas properly now. “I meant he needs a home. A real one. One without knives and guns lying around where he can find them. He needs windows and sunlight and shit. A garden he can play in.”

“Oh,” Cas said. 

“We should get a house. Let’s get a house.” 

The words tripped out of Dean’s mouth before he had time to think them through, and the sudden silence left in their wake was a physical, tangible thing; fragile and brittle. Cas’ mouth opened and his throat worked but no sound came out. Dean’s jaw grit, the muscles twitching, like he was facing down certain death, not his best friend. Cas ached to say yes and damn the consequences, but Dean was prone to rash decisions, punch now ask questions later, and this was too big a decision to leap into without looking.

“Dean, this is your life,” Cas said, his voice small. “I can’t ask you to- I can’t tear you away from—“ He closed his eyes and tried again, “Dean I can’t force you to be his father. I can’t ask you to give up your life like that. The bunker is your home.“

“Yeah well maybe I’m tired of fighting,” Dean said, and at the admission the tension in his body finally seemed to get the message, draining out of him and into the floor like a popped water balloon. “He gave us free will, and maybe this is what I want to do with it.” He said it gently, and he looked at Cas with a question in his eyes, like he was asking permission to want this. “He’s my kid too, Cas. I wanna be that for him. Please.” The last word came out as a whisper. Cas looked at him, the tired lines around his eyes, the love and hope that shone so brightly there. He wanted to reach out and touch his cheek, ground himself in something solid, but that was a line they didn’t cross. 

“Of course,” He said, and it was all worth it to see Dean smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh miscommunication and misinterpretation how integral you are to the deancas experience


End file.
